


Hanging On

by ConstantlyTiredReader



Series: Control [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (These are only briefly and vaguely mentioned), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Blow Jobs, Control Issues, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Medical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mostly fluff though, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shower Sex, Smut, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Vaginal Sex, smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyTiredReader/pseuds/ConstantlyTiredReader
Summary: Rus prepares for his upcoming first date with Edge after officially moving from being friends with benefits to boyfriends.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Series: Control [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763440
Comments: 28
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Letting Go, which is the first fic in this series. I highly recommend reading, as it will provide quite a bit of context.

Portal shrinking before his very eyes, Rus holds his hand to his mouth, still warmed by the brief touch from Edge.

Oh, Edge.

He stands there for angel knows how long, staring like a lovesick idiot. Realisation only begins sinking in as the machine beeps demandingly, waiting for either another coordinate to be punched in or for it to be turned off. Hand sliding down his face, Rus chooses the latter.

 _Stars_. He’s worse than some of the protags in those terrible romance animes he has watched with Undyne over the years.

Not bothering to walk through the rest of the house, Rus shortcuts directly up to his room. It only takes him two steps before he is able to flop onto his — thanks to Edge — freshly made bed. Face buried into his pillow, still warm from the dryer and holding onto the familiar scent of their fabric softener, he lets himself slowly exhale.

Fuck, this was _not_ how he was expecting things to turn out when he was welcomed to the sight of Edge stalking around his room, LV at least three higher than the last time they had met.

All in all, things could’ve turned out worse. A lot worse, actually. The fact that they somehow managed to move past the sheer disaster that was perpetuated by Rus’ obliviousness is nothing short of a Gyftmas miracle minus the Gyftmas season.

He should have figured things out sooner. Everything in that equation was just _wrong_. Someone like Edge simply doesn’t bring in cuffs like those as some sort of handy dandy declaration of trust when he is barely keeping himself together; he is too much of a control freak. Too many trust issues there.

Then again, Edge did trust Rus to care for him. To let him love him and lend him as much healing as is possible in a single night. Maybe Edge has found more trust in Rus than he had believed.

The point is, it took Rus way too fucking long to sense out the truth. Thankfully, he could also sense it in Edge’s expression that this was the first time he had tried something like that. Looking back to past encounters, Edge had never acted like he did last night. 

Never never never, and that’s a fucking relief.

Rus should probably be more hurt that Edge tried — and, briefly, succeeded in — using him like that. Probably. When they had started fucking around with each other, there was certainly nothing in the deal about Edge using Rus to help hurt himself as some kind of self-flagellation. Any BDSM that Rus might consider participating in has to be safe, sane, and consensual, thanks, and what Edge attempted doesn’t fill any of those prerequisites.

But after Edge’s breakdown — the most honest emotion he had ever seen in him at that point — Rus couldn’t dare beat him down further. Not when he was already judging himself harder than Rus ever could.

 _"Why does it still hurt?”_ Sockets so wide, eye lights quivering in a pain that came from more than his self-inflicted injuries. He could feel the trembling in Edge’s bones before he could see it, the movement obscured under the sheet. The air was filled with heaviness, a precursor to his sobs. For a moment, Rus saw past the scars, past the years of wear and tear and stress. 

_Cold room. Drafty clothes, dirtied with marrow, dried and fresh. Bare legs dangling off the paper-covered bed surrounded by blank, colourless walls. In the distance, the high-pitched wails of a babybones. His brother, who is probably alone and so scared. Looking up at the (faceless? why can’t he remember their face?) monster in a white coat, tears trailing down his cheeks. “why does it hurt?”_

Rus sits back up, fingers twitching automatically to the pack of cigarettes he has been trying to ignore for the past week. Nope, not doing those (terrifyingly vague and spotty) snippets of memories, nope, nope, nope. That can be a problem for a later date. And by a later date, he preferably means never, but tomayto tomahto.

Getting back to the Edge thing, though… They need to have a better talk. Yeah. Make sure that both him and Edge are on the same page for everything now that the emotions are a bit more stable.

For now, though, there is nothing left for Rus to do but snuff out the remains of his ciggie and collapse back against his bed.

He begins drifting off, which is promptly interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. “Papy?” After a moment’s hesitation, Blue adds, “Edge?”

Welp. So much for a nap. Pushing himself back up to a seated position, he responds, “edge left, bro. it’s safe to come in.”

“Thank goodness,” Blue chirps, opening the door. In his hands is a nice plate of nachos, stacked high with some of his favourite toppings to balance out the copious amounts of veggies hidden within. “Not that I don’t enjoy his company, but I really rather not walk in to find the both of you —”

“ _blue!_ ” Rus covers his rapidly heating face with his hands. “i don’t want to hear it!”

Dryly, Blue sets the plate on his nightstand and says, “Which is precisely what came to my mind last night when I came home to the sounds of my older brother canoodling with his ‘boyfriend but not actually a boyfriend because angel _forbid_ you actually communicate your romantic feelings.’” The air quotes are an entirely superfluous addition, in Rus’ opinion.

Pushing past the extra embarrassment of wondering when, exactly, Blue had heard them, he grabs a nacho and shoves it in his mouth. “well, the joke’s on you, bro. now he _is_ my _bone_ friend.”

“I am choosing to ignore that awful pun and the fact that you made it even worse by talking with your mouth full,” Blue announces, jumping onto the bed beside him. The stars in his eye lights are even shinier than normal. “Really?!”

Just thinking of it is enough to bring a sappy grin to his face and fuck, how is he so hopelessly lovesick already? “yeah. we’re all official as of breakfast. sealed the deal over bacon and orange juice.”

“As all good relationships are.”

“yeah.”

Blue raises a brow bone, wordlessly asking for the deets. Well, who is Rus to leave his bro hanging? He proceeds to spill (some) of the beans — pg rated only, thanks. Naturally, he also omits certain details out of respect for Edge’s privacy. The important details, though, such as Rus finally working up the courage to accidentally admit his feelings, are shared, much to his brother’s delight.

“Oh Papy,” he laughs. “I’m so happy for you two!” This being the kinder, more Blue way of saying, ‘thank goodness, it’s about fucking time, you absolute disasters’. That, of course, is also a correct interpretation, and Rus has a funny feeling that he’s going to be receiving a similar message from Red any time now. 

“thanks, bro.” He doesn't mention that he still struggles to believe it himself. That after nearly two years of knowing his feelings and two more years on top of that of being friends with benefits, he is nearly convinced that this is just a nice dream. His bro doesn't need to be told to know; needless to say, this isn't the first conversation they've had on what passes as his love life.

“Well,” Blue says, hopping down, “I’ll let you enjoy your food. I need to get ready to go rock wall climbing with Papyrus.”

“have fun. you _rock_ , bro.”

“Papy!”

Grinning impishly, Rus adds, “and i just want you to know that i never take you for _granite_.”

He sprints out of the room, down the stairs. “I’m leaving now so I don’t have to hear this!”

“c’mon, i know you appreciate the _sediment_.” Wow, that is an impressively loud groan, considering how Blue is at the exact opposite end of the house. Having mercy, Rus ignores the rest of the rock-related puns in his collection — even if there are some real _gems_ in the batch. Heh. “say hi to paps for me.”

“I will! See you later.”

“see you. stay safe!”

* * *

For the next two weeks, Rus doesn’t see anything of Edge. Things in Underfell are always pretty intense, so it’s sadly not too much of a surprise. Limited to brief phone calls and adorably stilted and formal text messages, he finds himself longing for the next time he can actually see him face to face. Stupid as it is, he misses him. The fucking annoyingly insecure part of him is scared that this lack of contact means that Edge doesn’t want to see him. 

But, as Skylar reminded him during his last therapy session, that probably isn’t the case.

Rus may be an asshole — he can admit it — but he refuses to let himself be the kind of asshole who gets all pissy because his partner can’t devote every single fucking second of every single fucking day to him. Edge has his hands full, keeping the people in his Underground as safe as possible in their personal hell. These days, he gets that. Just because he didn’t use to, it doesn’t mean he can’t learn from his mistakes.

That’s why it’s such a highlight when he wakes up to a text from Edge asking him if he will be doing anything Friday night.

Rubbing sleepily at his eye sockets, Rus reads the message three more times. It’s better to be on the safe side. After confirming that yes, he isn’t dreaming, he shoots back a quick response, saying that he will be free anytime after five in the afternoon. Barely a minute later, Edge texts him back.

 **edgelord:** Excellent.

 **edgelord:** I’ll see you then?

Face lit up with a wide grin, Rus sends a thumbs up, followed by a string of various heart emojis.

* * *

From that point on, Blue gets more texts from Edge than Rus does. Apparently, his younger bro is giving him some assistance in scheduling things; since their date will be happening in Underswap, it only makes sense that he might want some help working out the details. Rus would help. Hell, he called to offer as soon as he found out. However, according to Edge and Blue, that isn’t allowed. Edge is the one asking him out this time, and if he helped, it would ruin the surprise.

Finally, Friday comes. Rus rushes home, so glad that he gave himself extra time when he was talking to Edge. Now, he has enough time to get ready despite having had to stay late at work. And stars, does he ever need it. His clothes reek of middle school and book glue, which likely doesn't rank anywhere near to bone cologne when it comes to raw magnetism.

At least he does have one thing going for him, Rus decides as he grabs his outfit from his closet. With Blue being fully in the know about his date, he can give him advice on how formal he should be going. Would he have ignored Blue’s suggestions either way to go with a simple pair of khaki slacks and a deep orange button-up? Probably. But the point is, he put in the effort to ask. Either way, now he can at least say that he has balanced looking like himself and being comfortable while still showing Edge how much he cares by actually dressing up a bit.

Before he knows it, Rus hears a firm knock at his bedroom door.

"come in!" he calls, hurriedly shoving the last bit of mess that he can into his closet. Sure, it isn't like Edge hasn't seen all this before, but before wasn't a _date_ ; he would like to try and make a decent impression, thanks.

It's nothing, however, when compared to the impression that Edge makes on him.

_Damn!_

Strutting in with all the sexiness in all the universes combined, Edge gives him a small, crooked smile. For once, he stands taller than Rus, even when the fact that he has bent out of his normal slouch is taken into consideration. Black heeled boots click against Rus' floor, bringing all this skeletal goodness even closer.

A deep red shirt, so similar to the shade of his magic, clings against his broad ribs before tucking neatly into a dark pair of slacks. In true Edge style, the slacks are a narrow cut, showing off those hot, sexy legs of his. The outfit is topped off with a matching jacket and a silky black tie. Rus can't help but imagine what Edge would look like, his tie hanging casually untied around his neck, the first button — or maybe two or three — of his shirt undone. He shivers.

More than thoroughly flustered, Rus squeaks, "you look nice."

Edge's smile grows, a faint crimson glow burning on his cheekbones. "You too, Rus." He pauses, a soft expression on his scarred face. Then, he clears his throat, coughing. "Our ride should be here any minute."

"cool," he responds, unsurprised. Edge, of course, doesn't have a driver's license; still living Underground makes that a little tricky. And since what they're going to be doing is supposed to be a proper surprise, it's not like Rus can have the coordinates to shortcut over or drive himself. "you wanna head down, then?"

Edge nods, sweeping a gloved hand. "After you."

True to his word, their Uber pulls up to the house seconds after they make it downstairs. Opening the door for him, Edge pulls out all the stops, escorting him outside and everything. 

"don't you know how to make a guy feel special?" Rus teases, stepping into the car. "if i'd known this, i would've asked you out ages ago."

Settling into the seat beside him, Edge doesn't really acknowledge the last part of his comment. He does, however, murmur, "You _are_ special, Rus." And gee, is it getting hot in here or what? Because wow. Rus feels like he needs to take his jacket off already.

Well, Edge isn't the only one who can be suave. Rus catches his hand as soon as he is fully seated, giving it a small squeeze. This earns a small almost smile and a hesitant squeeze back. Mission accomplished.

For the duration of the ride, they make small talk. Putting it kindly, it's awkward as hell. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that this is a first date, which are almost contractually awkward. Maybe it's the fact that they already know each other, but the transition from casual fuck buddies to lovey-dovey boyfriends is still a bit of a mystery. 

Some of it is definitely circumstantial. The fact that their driver is a human probably doesn't help Edge feel more comfortable; his past experiences with humans in the 'verses that have made it to the Surface have unfortunately been far from pleasant. Plus, some of their conversation options are a little limited; asking about Edge's day means discussing murder world, and while Rus may be be used to it by now, it's still the kind of thing that understandably freaks people out. The last thing they need is for their driver to hear Edge talking about the violence of his world and making the wrong assumptions about the monsters here.

Before long, they end up at what Rus recognises as one of the nicest Italian restaurants in the city. He's talking about a real swanky joint; the kind with real chandeliers and live musicians and everything. Suddenly, he finds himself regretting his decision to ignore his brother's clothing suggestions. 

"We're a bit early for our reservation," Edge explains as they walk to the lobby, "but I wasn't sure what traffic would be like."

Classic edgelord. 

From the time the hostess sits them down at a candlelit table for two, Rus would say it's an… okay date. Yeah, okay. 

Not to judge Edge or anything, but this wasn't really what he was anticipating. Sure, all the individual elements are more than there. They have the romantic atmosphere. The food is delicious, paired with a nice red wine. They aren't at Lady and the Tramp style spaghetti kisses yet, but that doesn't exactly surprise him; that kind of thing is probably too messy in real life to appeal to the edgelord.

It takes Rus until the main course to clue into what has been bugging him: Edge is _way_ too tense. It reminds him of before. Back before they had started fucking around, and he had just assumed that Edge always had the world’s largest stick up his ass.

This, of course, was before Rus knew the truth about Edge. That the edgelord isn’t, well, on edge because he’s a buzzkill, but rather because he is so concerned about maintaining a façade of controlled perfection. Even at his most unrestrained, Edge is rarely anywhere near careless. Despite his LV — which is absolutely through the roof by Underswap standards — he is still capable of honing in his attacks to the decimal point of damage. And this same ironclad control is something he maintains in every part of his life.

Like this date, for example.

Knowing that he won’t get any response from him while anybody else is in hearing range, Rus waits until the waiter has finished delivering their food. “are you okay?” he asks, casually twirling his pasta.

“I’m fine,” Edge snaps, and nope. This shit isn’t happening again.

His moment comes when the waiter passes their table a few minutes later. 

“Would you like more wine, sirs?” 

“no thanks,” Rus answers, taking advantage of the fact that Edge has good manners and won’t speak with his mouth full. “do you think we could actually get our food to go, though? change of plans.”

“Of course.” 

Nodding cordially, the man leaves while Edge’s scarred socket gives a little twitch. That is the only reaction Rus gets to the news.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long for them to be able to leave; the service here is pretty great. When Edge insists on covering the bill, Rus isn't the slightest bit surprised. Rather than arguing about something his boyfriend very clearly wants to do, he just chips in extra money for the tip. Discreetly, he places the elegant bag of food into his inventory — humans are still pretty touchy about the use of even the most simple magic, even though inventory boxes are more science-based than magic any day.

"i know a nice place nearby," Rus says as he lets Edge help him into his jacket. "i think you'll like it."

Nearby is a subjective term. By the way the crow flies, the quiet park is about ten minutes away. By feet confined to city walkways and traffic, it's closer to twenty or even thirty. But by shortcut? That method of transportation brings them there in mere seconds. Add in a handful more for Edge to regain his footing and a few more for Rus to sit their asses down on an empty bench, and Rus would like to say he did well at giving the edgelord some peace and privacy as fast as possible.

A few yards away from them, there is a small pond. Ducks paddle around, quacking quietly as Rus turns to look Edge in the eyes. He forces himself to suppress a frown when he takes in his strained expression. 

"is it okay if I wrap my arm around you?"

"We're not fucking," Edge snaps. "You don't need to ask my consent."

Rus takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly as a deep pang of sadness and anger runs through him. Somehow, he has a feeling that Edge’s world is at least partially to blame for making him think that, and he hates it. He takes another breath, just to be on the safe side, before speaking.

“yes, i do.” Pausing, Rus is careful to consider his wording. Hands resting open on his lap, he resists the urge to divert his gaze off to the ducks. Yeah, it would be easier, but he needs to know that he is being listened to seriously. “edge, if you’re ever uncomfortable with something I do — _anything_ , not just sex — say the word. i’ll stop, and we can talk about it, okay?” He doesn’t hesitate before adding, “i promise.”

Edge’s eyes widen. For a long moment, he just stares at Rus, unblinking. Whatever processing he had to go through apparently ends, though, and he gives him a curt nod. Then, “Is… is your offer still on the table?”

“yeah. any time, edgelord.” 

Right away, he wraps an arm around Edge’s shoulders. He bites back a wide grin when he immediately leans in on Rus, stopping just short of curling up against him completely.

Although he would never admit it — he likes living with all his limbs firmly attached, thanks — Rus has known for a while now that Edge is a bit of a cuddle bug. For someone who was determined to only have ‘casual’ sex between spewing insults at him, he really took advantage of the whole basking in the afterglow thing. Some of it could be chalked up to aftercare. But some is the keyword here.

Their last encounter only went to confirm it, in Rus’ opinion. Not only could he feel the way each of Edge’s bones relaxed, but he swears he could hear the edgelord’s soul calm to a steadier thrum when they snuggled up to each other. 

That’s the type of thing Rus is hoping for right now.

“so…” he starts, thoughtlessly drumming his fingers on Edge’s humerus.

“Yes?”

“you wanna tell me what’s going on, precious?”

Edge tenses, the feeling so much more obvious now that he is holding him close. “What makes you think anything is going on?”

Rus exhales slowly through his nasal cavity. Part of him was anticipating him to speed right into denial lane, but that doesn’t make it any easier to listen to. “papyrus,” he says, soft yet firm, “please. you don’t need to hide from me.” Shutting his eyes, he takes a risk to add, “if you really aren’t comfortable giving me the details, that’s fine. but even if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, please don’t lie about it, okay?” 

After saying this, he expects Edge to use his out. They might have made a lot of progress with each other over the last little bit, but Rus knew long before they got involved that the edgelord has trust issues. And if this is some kind of Underfell thing that has his jimmies jangled… well, Edge always liked to keep Fell verse things away from Tale verse monsters.

So imagine his pleasant surprise when he opens his eyes to Edge visibly calculating a response. 

Not wanting to pressure him, Rus lets his gaze wander off to the pond. Given the time of year, most of the ducklings have grown out of their baby fluff, leaving smooth, shiny feathers in their stead. From where he is seated, though, and with the darkening twilight sky, he would have to squint to really see that.

"I didn't want to disappoint you again," Edge finally says, haltingly.

Rus scrunches his brows, perplexed. "what do you mean?"

"I _mean_ I fucked things up. Last time," he clarifies, as if Rus hadn't already guessed that. His next words are spoken in a rush. "I know I can't make that up to you, but I can at least make this date perfect." Under his breath, he bitterly adds, "I thought I could, at least."

"and you did," Rus insists. Turning a bit, he takes Edge's hand in his own. "it's just a little tricky for me to fully enjoy everything you planned when you aren't enjoying yourself, precious. things don't need to be 'perfect' for me; i'm just happy to be with you.”

Edge puffs up like an indignant cat who fell into a full bathtub. “But the dating manual says that as your datemate, I need to —”

“what says we need to go entirely by the manual? as long as we’re both happy, i think there’s some room for flexibility.” Somewhat wryly, he adds, “and if your version is anything like the one we have here, we kinda skipped more than a few steps already.”

The faintest hint of a blush burns on sharp cheekbones. Rus grins at it, even as Edge protests, “But I want to do things _right_ this time.”

“and you will.” Briefly, he pauses to give Edge’s gloved hand a gentle squeeze. “I believe in you, edgelord.”

Possibly more than Edge believes in himself right now, but that isn't the important part; soon, Rus will find a way to help convince him. Until then, he will just have to believe enough for the both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that here be the smut.

Determined to finish their date on a good note, Rus suggests having a picnic. They already have the food, and it's not like this park is the world's least romantic place. Sure, there's a bit more litter and honking trucks than the restaurant, but not as much as if Rus had taken them to the park closer to his house.

Spreading out a clean dish towel that somehow ended up in his inventory — he still doesn't know when and how that ended up there, honestly — Rus works with Edge to set out their food on the bench. Again, not the most traditional of options, but it's better to eat up here where they won't get grass stains all over their nice clothes.

Unlike the dishtowel, Rus actually knows where the sets of plastic cutlery come from. He tends to keep a few on hand for those days he forgets to bring them to work. There are only so many times a person can try drinking canned ravioli that was skewered open using a bone construct, thanks. Plus, as funny as the kids at work may find it, the other staff members don't really approve. 

"it's really a shame that we have to undo all this hard work," he comments idly to Edge as they unfold the fancy tin foil swans. Already, his mind is working hard to replicate it; that could be a fun party trick to add to his arsenal. He already has the disappearing-reappearing shtick down, after all. Functional tin foil sculptures could be his new thing.

“They did make it for us with the knowledge that we would be opening it,” Edge points out. “Is there anything else?”

“nah. i think we’re good to go,” he smiles.

With an elegant flare, Edge sweeps up his hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “Excellent.” And oh, isn’t someone back on his groove now that they’ve had their little talky talky time? Rus can dig this.

This time around, their dining experience feels a lot lighter. Sure, it still takes Edge some time to get warmed all the way back up again, but it isn’t long before they reach a good, fun time. Exchanging bites of their respective food, Rus can’t help but laugh as Edge goes on a small rant about Red’s latest batch of ‘irritating older sibling japery’ — and not just because it gives him ideas for the next time he needs to get into some brotherly antics with Blue. 

“so,” Rus asks as Edge fusses over his face with a napkin, “are we good to head back to my place?”

He pauses in his cleaning. “What about your brother?”

Sheepishly, Rus scratches the back of his skull. “yeah... well, let’s just say that we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Oh?”

“yeah.” Blue had very purposefully let him know that he would be hanging out with Alphys tonight. Which, of course, was blatant code for ‘go ahead, do what you want with your boyfriend; you don’t have to worry about me being there to make things weird’. Rus appreciates it, although the brow waggling was unwarranted and frankly embarrassing.

Edge calls them a cab, relying heavily on Rus’ knowledge of the city to give the driver accurate directions. Shortcutting all the way back would only serve to drain him, and as much as romance novels and shit seem to make swooning out to be a perfect heart-fluttering moment where the swoonee get swept away by the tall, handsome love interest, he would rather not pass the fuck out on his front porch. Been there, done that, would rather not recreate it and spend the remainder of his date with Edge freaking out about him, thanks. Granted, that would be one hell of a bonding moment for them; nothing like some surprise fainting to spice things up in a relationship.

Climbing into the back seat, Rus waits for Edge to settle in to rest his head against his shoulder. It takes a second, but he relaxes and absently strokes the top of his skull. Nice. Very nice.

For a few minutes, there is only quiet as Rus watches the city go by, all bright lights and dark streets rushing by. Then, he feels Edge shift under his head. “Rus?” he begins, voice pitched just above a whisper.

“yeah?”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t clarify what, exactly, he is thanking Rus for. He doesn’t have to.

“anytime, edgelord.”

“You know,” he continues in a whisper against Rus’ skull, low and tempting as all hell, “I can think of a few ways to show my appreciation." He runs a hand down Rus' femur. "If you'd like."

Rus shivers, hot magic welling up in his mouth. Oh stars. He would like. He very much would like. Swallowing it back, he manages to respond, "careful, edge. i'd rather not give our driver a surprise brush-up on skeletal anatomy, if you catch my drift."

“Shame,” he tsks, eye lights glinting with interest. Which, Rus might add, isn’t really helping things. If anything, it makes it all the more tempting to loosen that tie of his, unbuttoning his shirt as they passionately make out in the back seat and —

Luckily, they arrive at Rus’ place before those steamy thoughts can go much further. Together, he and Edge stumble out of the cab, barely remembering to thank their driver after paying for the ride. And if Rus shortcuts the few meters over to unlock the door instead of walking, well, can he be faulted for being more than a little eager?

Certainly, Edge mustn’t think so. Hearing the gravelly sound of Edge chuckling grow nearer, he isn’t surprised when a large set of hands find their way onto his hips, turning him around. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“for you?” Rus tilts his head up for a kiss— which is weird, but he can’t complain about what those heeled boots do to Edge’s legs. “when am i not?”

Edge answers this with an almost-growl, pulling him close to deepen the kiss. Letting his eyes fall shut, Rus stands on his tiptoes, trying as hard (heh) as he can to get more into it. But, just as he considers really going to town with it, he reluctantly separates; he still needs to get this stupid door opened or else he is going to be giving his neighbours a free show.

Once they shut the door behind them, Rus’ initial plan is to go grab them some drinks, giving Edge a chance to remove his jacket and settle in. Edge, however, clearly has different priorities in mind.

“make yourself comfortable,” he says, stealing a quick kiss. Before he can duck away to leave, though, Edge catches him.

“I already am,” he replies. Barely a second later, his mouth is pressed against Rus’, demanding a more thorough kiss.

Needless to say, Rus doesn’t make it to get their drinks before they are urging each other up the stairs, Edge nibbling lightly at his cervical vertebrae while Rus works at bending his neck as much as he can to accommodate. Hands fisted into the front of Edge’s shirt, Rus allows himself to be guided backward, too focused on figuring out how to undo his tie. Eventually, he gives up, loosening it enough so that he can slide it off Edge’s head the next time he comes up for air.

Groping at Rus’ iliac crests through his pants, Edge keeps walking. He doesn’t stop until the back of his knees hit the side of the bed, forcing him to sit down with his legs sprawled out. Shirt delectably rumpled, Edge follows along, encouraging Rus to scooch over so that they can both sit comfortably and close to each other. Pliantly, he lets him, offering no resistance. It’s obvious to him that Edge needs to get all his ducks in a row again; this intimate moment between them can be an outlet for that desire to remain in control. Rus is completely cool with that. 

After all, he gets to reap the benefits.

Compared to their normal, Edge is slow to ramp things up tonight, not that Rus is complaining. A nice and gentle kissing session can be its own fun, and something about it seems oddly appropriate; upping the romantic aspect of their foreplay, perhaps, now that they are actually dating.

“oh, _edge_ ,” he sighs against his mouth. “i want you.”

This seems to flip a switch in Edge. Eye lights flaring, he pulls Rus into his lap. He can feel the heat of his magic through the layers of their pants, the feeling accentuated when he grinds his hips down without even thinking about it. Edge moans into his mouth, all kinds of eager and _fuck!_ Fuck, that feels good! Greedily, Rus catches him by the jaw, holding him so close that he has to go cross-eyed to see Edge’s face. He kisses him insistently, desperately. Heat builds in his abdominal cavity, making him crave more. 

So much more.

Somehow, Edge turns him onto his back without Rus even noticing. All he knows is that one moment, he’s sitting on Edge’s lap and then the next, Edge is looming over him, rolling his hips down to Rus’ as they kiss.

“for the record,” he says when Edge directs his attention away from his mouth, moving down his jaw towards his neck, “i’m a-okay with this _turn_ of events.”

This earns a growl, the vibration of the sound ticklish against his sensitive spine. “I ought to shut you up for that one,” Edge warns, tearing Rus’ shirt open.

Just as Rus opens his mouth to respond with a cheeky ‘make me’, Edge crawls off of him. And come on, it was just one pun and —

“Form me your cock.”

Anyone else would see it as a command, even as Edge climbs off the bed to kneel between his legs. In some ways, it very much is. But Rus — for better or for worse — knows better. He can see the hint of desperation pulling at his expression, hear the faintest trace of trembling pleading in his voice.

He gives it to him.

A satisfied smirk lights up Edge’s face when he takes in the speed in which honeyed magic shifts from something formless and diffuse to tenting his slacks. Nudging Rus’ legs further apart, he looks up at him. “It’s your turn to enjoy yourself,” he says fiercely. A welcomed threat. 

Edge makes good on it, grabbing his bulge and giving it a teasing squeeze. A strangled noise escapes his mouth, too many consonants mashed together into something nonsensical. Rus is about to do something — what, exactly, his mind can’t quite put together, although he knows it was meant to be helpful — but Edge snatches him by the wrists.

“Don’t. Move.”

“yes, captain,” he teases, relaxing as Edge presses his hands down against the mattress. Eye lights flaring, Edge shudders. Yeah, definitely adding that to his list of things to remember for the future. That right there was a good reaction, and a very promising one for Rus right now.

Without wasting time, Edge undoes his pants. Pushing them down to hang around his knees, he moves closer. Then, before Rus can even take another breath, Edge envelopes him with his mouth.

Nothing about this is like the clumsy way he used to suck Rus off back when they first started messing around. No siree. Edge’s mouth is plush and wet, tongue gently and skillfully pushing up to rub against the underside of his dick. Each soft lick is its own delight. Comforting, yet arousing. The natural heat of Edge’s body is amplified in the best ways in his mouth, wonderful and so, _so_ good!

And stars above, the sight of it all! His hands tremble against the sheets as he takes it in. Bobbing his head with great determination, Edge couldn’t look hotter. Face flushed, his eye lights are fuzzy around the edges (heh). Adding to the thoroughly debauched appeal, perspiration is beginning to build on his skull, making it glisten under the lights. His edgelord never was one to give less than his one hundred percent in anything. Including blow jobs.

It is a struggle to obey the command to stay still, and not just because he knows how much it would rile Edge up if he gave some good-spirited resistance out of being a brat. Rus wants to unbutton Edge’s shirt the rest of the way to gain access to the strong rib cage hiding beneath, to fondle each and every sensitive bone and return all the beautiful sensations. He wants to stroke Edge’s skull and tell him how good he’s doing even when Rus is struggling to form sentences because it’s all so fucking good. So hot, and if it weren’t for those two simple words of ‘don’t move’, he would be all over Edge.

Between the wet noises of Edge sucking his cock and his pulse pounding in his skull, Rus doesn’t really hear the jangling of Edge’s belt; likewise, he misses out on the smooth purr of his zipper opening. However, there is no missing when Edge unabashedly moans, the sound vibrating around Rus. Shuddering, he looks down.

"oh shit!"

Looking gorgeous — always gorgeous — the sight of what Edge is doing sucker punches the breath out of Rus. Enthralled, he couldn't tear his eyes away from him, even if he tried. Edge's hand swirls in a pool of hot unformed magic. He can feel the shaky puffs of breath coming from his nasal aperture, just as telling of his edgelord's pleasure as the sounds he makes, muffled by Rus' dick. That right there might even be hotter than the way Edge is sucking him, tongue teasing at the head. When that beautiful crimson magic shapes itself into a slick pussy, all Rus can do is clench his hands into fists, struggling not to come on the spot.

Adjusting to circle a thumb around his clit, Edge's mouth falls open, his spine arching. _Fuck!_ Rus' bones clatter as he tries to push back the building pleasure at the base of his spine. 

" _edge_ ," he pleads, drawing his name out into a whine. He's already so close, too close. They've barely gotten started and he is so fucking close.

Edge hums his response, which really doesn't help. Rus' dick twitches when he pulls off, the air of the room feeling so much colder than it should. Standing up, Edge steps effortlessly out of his pants to climb back on the bed. How he does that is beyond Rus — angel knows he can't even manage to do that with loose basketball shorts without getting at least slightly tangled, let alone something as bone-tight as what Edge wears — but now really isn't the time to ask after that particular brand of magic. Still, he can’t help but be jealous, struggling to kick his pants from where they are hanging around his ankles while Edge neatly strips out of his shirt.

Straddling over Rus’ lap, Edge remains up on his knees. Hands still gloved, he pulls him forward, urging him into a heated kiss. Rus fists at the sheets, fingers twitching. Stars, he is trying so hard to keep his hands to himself. But if Edge really wants him to sit back and watch, he had better grab his tie from wherever it ended up and put it to better use because damn, if Rus isn’t itching to touch him.

“please,” he breathes, “can i?”

Nodding, Edge says, “Go ahead.”

And Rus does. Granted permission, he immediately reaches down to press against those damp folds, wanting to coax more wetness from him. Edge leans into the touch. Exhaling slowly, he wraps his arms around Rus’ shoulders, forehead almost resting against Rus’.

Perfect.

“there we go,” he croons, fingers circling in ways he knows drive Edge crazy. “gonna make you feel so good, preci— _ohhhhh!_ ”

Nearly folding over, Rus loses his words when Edge gives his cock another firm stroke. Well, two can play at that game. Redoubling his efforts, Rus pays some extra attention to Edge’s clit, running a finger lightly up and down his slit beforehand to get everything all nice and slippery. Breathing heavily, Edge shivers at the touch.

“mmmmm, edge,” Rus groans in a low voice, “you look so sexy, all hot and needy like this.” He looks down, appreciating the beautiful red magic making up his cunt. The way its glow lights him up from his femurs to his lower spine, showcasing his strong bones, the chips and raised edges of old injuries which always reminds Rus of how much a survivor his boyfriend is. He runs a hand over some of those scars. “so beautiful.”

For a while, the only sound between them is their breathing, growing louder by the second and interspersed by the soft, slick squelching of their magic. Rus leans forward to capture Edge’s mouth in a heated kiss. He wants to savour this moment, to sear the memory of this date into his mind. He needs to remember how Edge looks right now, completely lacking in tension and honest in a way that is often difficult for his boyfriend. Stars above, he needs this.

Fingers squeeze at the base of his shaft, startling a groan out of Rus. “fuck!” he exclaims — or tries to, at least. His attempt comes out rather soundless, his voice cracking. 

Desperately, he starts to tease Edge open. By now, his phalanges are drenched in wetness, making the first finger slide in easily. Edge goes lax at the touch, sagging against Rus with a cross between a sigh and a moan.

“More?”

That is a request Rus is eager to fulfill.

He adds another finger, slowly scissoring him open while he rubs his thumb around Edge’s swollen nub. Above him, Edge is gasping, grinding down against his hand. Sweat glistens on his bones, lending him a rosy sheen. He clings hard to Rus’ ribs, his sharpened fingertips blunted by his gloves.

“are you already good for more?” Rus asks hoarsely, resisting the urge to jerk himself off in favour of tracing the holes of Edge’s sacrum with feather-light care. Edge rides his hand even harder, eyes squinching shut. “you want me to stretch you open more, make you ready for my cock?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he moans.

“that’s what i like to hear, precious.”

Three fingers in, Rus curls them; the resulting slick noises are an enticement of their own. He keeps going, listening carefully until Edge makes a broken cry deep in the back of his throat. Ruthlessly, Rus aims for the same spot. And again. And again, relishing in the spurt of wetness that trickles down his hand.

Suddenly, Edge’s hand flies to Rus’ wrist, gripping it tightly. “Enough.”

Rus freezes, meeting his eyes. “edge?” _Is something wrong?_ he wants to ask. Nearly does, in fact, if it weren’t for Edge looking like he is ready to explain without prompting.

“I want you in me,” he explains, face flushed.

Well. No complaints about that one.

Slowly, he removes his fingers from Edge’s pussy. Looking him straight in the eye, he cheekily waggles them in his face before licking them clean of glistening crimson. _Mmmmmmmm_. Seeing the way Edge’s eye lights flare, Rus decides to take his own sweet time with it, savouring the spicy magic loud and proud. He lets his tongue wrap around his fingers, groaning at the taste. In retrospect, he should have asked to eat Edge out. Next time.

Besides, it looks like his little show worked exactly the way he wanted.

Edge all but leaps the rest of the way onto Rus’ lap. Holding onto his hips, he silently encourages Edge to glide his wet folds around his dick, slicking it up before insertion. Eyes falling shut, he relaxes into the steady rhythm they work up; leisurely and intoxicating, a new rush of pleasure each time Edge slides forwards and back.

“so good, precious,” he whispers against the side of Edge’s skull. “you’re doing so good. you _feel_ so good, and i can’t wait to be inside you.”

Edge takes his cock into hand and Rus grunts. Lining himself up, he asks, “Then why wait?”

Edge inches his way down, almost tortuously slow, but so, _so_ wonderful. Soaking wet, he sinks smoothly onto Rus’ dick, his legs quivering until he is resting fully against Rus’ lap. The entire time, all Rus does is rub soothing circles over Edge’s hip bones; he wants Edge to make himself comfortable first. 

“there we go,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss Edge sweetly. “you’re doing so good. feel so good, all hot and tight around me.” He repeats the praise against Edge’s mouth. Rus wants Edge to _taste_ it, to feel the words before they even leave his mouth. His boyfriend may not be able to read his mind to know his feelings for him, but he will take what he can.

Movements restricted to helpless little twitches of his hips, Rus fights the urge to drive up hard into Edge. Soon, but not yet. Besides, even these tiny shifts feel like so much. Waiting for his edgelord to be ready may test his patience to a new degree, but it is so very worth it. 

Soon enough, Edge raises himself up, setting an easy, if slightly inconsistent, rhythm. Letting Edge control the speed for now, Rus runs his hands over his lower spine, his intent somewhere between soothing and arousing. He tips his head up to start pressing kisses to as much exposed bone as he can. He starts at Edge’s clavicles, laving at the chipped bones with his tongue. With a low sigh, Edge wraps his arms around his shoulders, picking up the pace. Groaning, Rus grips his hips.

“oh, precious,” he mumbles between kisses to Edge’s scarred sternum, “take as much as you want, love. as much as you want.” 

Rus rolls his hips up, matching Edge’s movements while he rides him. Fuck, he looks absolutely gorgeous! He drinks in each change in expression. The way Edge’s teeth part ever so slightly as he pants and grunts, ribcage heaving. When his eyes fall shut in pure blissed-out pleasure. The wonderful glow of those sharp cheekbones, revealing his enjoyment and exertion. All of it is so beautiful.

And best of all, it’s a special view for Rus’ eyes only.

Edge clings closer. Resting his forehead on Rus’ shoulder, he breathes out a near incoherent combination of expletives. 

“Hold me.”

“of course, precious.” _Always._

If asked, Rus wouldn’t be able to say how much longer he and Edge continue to make love with each other; time means nothing now. All he knows is Edge, all he can sense is him. The only thing he can say is that, no matter how long they have been going on, it isn’t enough. His climax arises too fast. Barely, he manages to garble out a warning to Edge — who takes that information and noticeably rides him faster. Eyes squeezing shut against his will, Rus leans in for another kiss. 

_Fuck!_

Exhausted, he falls back against the bed, still holding Edge in a tight embrace. “gimme a sec,” he gasps. He just needs a quick breather, long enough to work up the energy to help Edge along the rest of the way. 

Hands shaking, Rus fumbles his way back to Edge’s wet clit. Edge keeps moving, even though he has mellowed out to rock slowly against Rus’ pelvis. At the first touch of Rus’ fingers, he stutters. This only fuels him to work harder. Reaching his other hand around, Rus finds Edge’s sacrum. 

“there we go,” he coaxes, tracing the sensitive holes with the tips of his fingers. Edge shudders against him, his movements making him seem to be torn as to which touch to push into. With each passing second, his rocking grows more and more desperate. Beautiful. Letting his fingers trail down to tweak Edge’s coccyx, Rus asks, “getting close, preci—”

Before he can finish the question, he is cut off but the weight of Edge’s upper body collapsing slack against his own, inner muscles clenching as he comes. Rus feels it just as much as he takes in the sight of his jaw dropping in a silent scream; Edge’s breath, so close and hot against the crook of Rus’s neck, catches mid gasp.

“there you are, edgelord.” His voice sounds a bit strained — a natural consequence of supporting Edge’s sturdier bones for so long — but it is so worth it. He pets up and down his spine, soothing him through the last pleasured aftershocks. 

Soon enough, Edge rolls off of him, settling at his side as his cunt dispels. He covers his eyes with one arm, letting the other rest lightly on his ribcage. 

“don’t know ‘bout you,” Rus smirks, propping himself up on one elbow, “but i’m sure glad we skipped ahead to this part of the dating manual.”

Edge smacks his arm, sending him tumbling back against the mattress. There is absolutely no intent to it, though. “Shut up. I’m trying to enjoy the afterglow.”

Laughing, Rus shifts closer to him. “yeah, yeah.” He nuzzles against Edge’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss. "seriously though. how're you feeling?"

Because while Edge is so good at taking care of others, he is awful at taking care of himself. Regardless of whether it is out of forgetfulness or it is a purposeful choice, Rus has promised himself to try his best to help. He might not have been able to do much before, but now — especially since they’re dating — he wants to be there for Edge. But in order to do that, he needs a better idea of where his boyfriend is at.

Edge hums, making an adorably scrunched up face in disgust. Although, granted, Rus might be a bit biased. Sitting up, he says, “Good, but I want a shower.”

Yeah, that’s not a surprise; if there is one thing that is easy to predict about Edge at this point, it is his aversion to lying around in his own filth. Rus pushes himself up, stretching out. “sounds good, edge. how ‘bout you get started and i’ll join you in a minute, yeah?”

Nodding, Edge gets the rest of the way up and leaves, surprising him with a quick kiss along the way. Stars, Rus could get used to this. He takes a moment to appreciate the temptation of Edge sauntering out of his room and down the hall, all confidence and bare bones tinted with splatters of red and orange magic.

_Damn._

Well, that is a good motivator to hurry up. Without further delay, Rus rushes around his room, picking up each scrap of discarded clothing. Then, he shortcuts right to the laundry room, shoving their clothes to soak in the sink with cold water and detergent. It might be a bit overkill, but stains aren’t a good time, especially for legitimately nice clothes. 

Shortcutting back upstairs, he grins as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. “hey edgelord,” he greets. He is beyond eager to climb in the shower with Edge, who is craning to stay in the sweet spot of the spray.

They take turns soaping each other up, which is just plain old fun. Edge can be so serious at scrubbing down, which only fuels Rus to act more mischievously. The more focused Edge gets on washing his bones, the harder he works at distracting him. And if that leads to more making out, well… Rus has no complaints. 

“ _oh_ ,” he sighs against Edge’s mouth. He takes a step closer — 

— and slips. Before he falls hard on his ass, Edge catches him.

“my hero,” Rus laughs, a touch breathless. “i don’t know _water_ i’d do without you, edgelord.”

Huffing, Edge rolls his eyes. But he leans in for another kiss, so he can’t be that annoyed. His theory is proved further when he lowers his voice to a husky whisper and says, “If that’s the case, what are the chances of my heroic actions earning a reward?”

Oh yes! Running a tongue over his wet teeth, he promises, “oh, i’d say the chances are pretty good.” 

Edge’s eye lights dilate, and okay, maybe shower sex is definitely happening.

Decision made, Rus kneels down to where he can’t slip and fall again, squinting up at Edge against the fastly falling droplets. Edge sucks in a deep breath. His arousal is already drawing in a cloud of diffuse magic. “lovely,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to hover close to it. Even without touching Edge’s magic directly, Rus can feel the heat from it, remarkably warmer than the steaming water that is still pouring down over them. 

He waits for Edge to nod shakily, giving him the go-ahead. Running his fingers tortuously slow up his femurs, Rus watches for his boyfriend's reaction. Almost immediately, Edge grasps at the shower's pre-installed safety handle with one hand, Rus' shoulder with the other. Excellent.

"sensitive?" he asks teasingly. His touch wanders higher, moving to his inner thighs while carefully avoiding that swirling crimson magic. Reinvigorated from the shower, Rus can't resist putting more energy into thoroughly riling Edge up.

Edge groans, his already lit up joints glowing brighter. "Are you complaining?"

"not at all, precious." He pauses, giving Edge a little nip at the base of his right femoral head. Soothing the bite over with his tongue, he explains, "just checking in."

Deciding that he has teased Edge enough — for now, at least — Rus refocuses his attention to his pelvic inlet. He starts by gently running his hands through the coalescing magic, marveling at the lovely glow. Glancing up, that same flush has spread to Edge’s face.

“are you gonna make me something, precious? gonna let me make you feel good?” With the very tip of his tongue, he licks at the outer edge of the magic; playing with raw, unformed magic too much can be so intense, and Edge has already lasted longer with this than Rus was expecting. 

Edge does make something with his magic, and stars above, is it a good thing that Rus is already kneeling because if he had been standing… well, he wouldn’t be anymore.

“edge…” he starts, not sure what to say. “is this… are you sure?”

Instead of the pussy Rus was expecting, Edge has let his magic come together as a long cock. And, although he definitely is more than okay with this turn of events, he can’t help but worry that Edge might not be. Since they had started sleeping together, Rus had assumed that Edge simply preferred using his cunt — which is totally cool with Rus, he will happily enjoy working with whatever configuration of genitals he’s given — but after watching him nearly work himself into another breakdown over it last time… Well, Rus can’t help but wonder if there's something more to it. And no matter how much the sight of his dick makes his mouth water, Edge’s comfort comes first. 

Edge strokes Rus’ face, starting up by his coronal suture until he is able to tilt his chin up, making careful eye contact with him. “Trust me,” he says. And oh, Rus does. Rus trusts him so much, would trust him with his life, no questions asked. 

He just hopes that Edge isn’t pressuring himself to trust Rus in return.

Cautiously, Rus gives it a stroke, letting it weigh comfortably in his hands. It hardens while the rest of Edge goes slack, knees bending as he clutches harder at the shower’s handle. And, oh, while Rus may not know how to describe that low, guttural sound that comes from Edge’s mouth, there is absolutely no denying the fact that it was a sound of deep pleasure.

Stars, Rus wants to tear more of those sounds out of him.

With that goal in mind, Rus moves to grip Edge’s cock at the base. Smirking up at him, he runs his tongue up the shaft, taking his own sweet time to taste each and every bit of firm ecto. To savour the unexpected delight of getting to suck Edge off and make him savour the experience along with him. Opening his mouth, he inches forward, letting Edge’s cock glide against his tongue, between his teeth. 

Rus swirls his tongue around the base of Edge’s cock head. Purposefully, he sucks on it before pulling off with a loud pop. A thin thread of saliva follows him. “how’s it going up there, handsome?” he asks, not bothering to hide a satisfied grin as Edge’s dick twitches. Crimson precome trickles from the tip, thinning out under the water.

In response, Edge drags him to his feet, groaning into his mouth as he captures him in a frantic kiss. Well then. 

“i’m guessing that’s an ‘all good’, then?” Rus laughs, catching his breath. Taking advantage of the brief shift in activities, he walks them over to the shower wall, making sure that the safety handle is still within easy reach for Edge; he has a feeling he will need it to stay upright.

“Oh, much more than that, love.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

Edge… he hasn’t called him that yet. And damn, if it isn’t making Rus’ soul do funny little flip flops. 

It might be a little ridiculous for what was probably a mindless sweet name to prompt him back down to his knees, but Rus has never claimed to be a fully reasonable monster. Moving his hands to Edge’s hips — partially to help steady him and partially just because he wants to hold and touch him in as many ways as he can — he gets to work showing his appreciation. His mind goes comfortably blank the more he gets into it. Edge is stroking his face, hands shaking as his hips twitch in mini thrusts. It’s comforting, encouraging.

Rus feels pretty confident that Edge is getting close. He can feel it coming, the pulsing of Edge’s dick in his mouth a sign. And in case of any doubt, there’s Edge’s needy cries, echoing loudly against the natural acoustics of the bathroom. Moaning, Rus lets his mouth vibrate around his cock, tongue rubbing softly, and ah, there he goes. He swallows the sudden rush of magic, rubbing circles with his thumbs onto Edge’s hips.

After coming, Edge is more than a little bit wobbly. Rus helps him down to his knees, unsure of how long he would be able to support the edgelord’s weight without either of them tumbling over. By this point, the water has cooled from near scalding to just a few degrees higher than lukewarm. Edge doesn’t seem to care, too busy clinging to Rus in a deep, exhausted embrace as the shower pours down his spine. Leaning in a fraction closer, Rus meets him in a kiss, sharing the taste of Edge’s magic with him.

Due to Rus’ water heater starting to give up after running for so long, they wash off as quickly as possible to avoid becoming too chilled. Luckily, there isn’t much to do. There is a nice advantage to shower sex, after all: sweat and other fluids are a lot easier to deal with when they automatically rinse away. However, one of the things about being a skeleton monster is having lots of nooks and crannies for things to get stuck in, so it’s worth a second check.

Stepping out before Edge, Rus grabs them each a towel. One of the nice, big fluffy ones, to be precise. As his boyfriend, Edge can get the special treatment as a perk. Okay, and fine, Stretch just wants to use the fluffy towels too.

“Here,” Edge says, wrapping him up into a standing burrito. He then kisses his forehead. 

Squirming to free his arms, Rus grabs Edge’s towel. “dork.” Edge’s face scrunches up at that declaration, looking ready to argue about how he is a fierce warrior, blah blah blah. He shrugs it off, though, which is probably for the best; Rus doesn’t want to ruin this moment with his boyfriend with a spat about how trying to logic his way into seeming less like a dork actually makes him even dorkier.

Barely, Rus manages to resist the temptation to get a bit handsy while helping Edge towel off. Barely. He only quashes down that thought with the reminder of how sleepy he is; he would rather not embarrass himself by falling asleep while he and Edge mess around. Again. Another day, maybe.

Wandering back to his bedroom, Rus clears his throat. “so…”

“Yes?”

“i was wondering…” he trails off, his voice cutting out against his will. Stars, why does this have to be so hard compared to everything else he just did? Edge only watches him passively, his normal resting bitch face mellowed out from exhaustion and bliss. He isn’t pushing, isn’t judging as Rus struggles to gather his words. All he says is an inquisitive ‘yes’, a filler to reduce the awkward silence. Taking a deep breath, Rus rushes out, “stay the night? please?” he adds, unable to keep the coaxing out of his voice.

Edge smiles, catching his hand to give it a soft squeeze. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Rus only lets go of Edge’s hand once they reach his room. Making his way across to his night table, he starts rifling through the bottom drawer where he keeps his PJs. “gimme a minute, and i’ll grab you something, ‘kay?”

“No need; I’ve got it.”

Rus, more than a little confused, spins around on his heels. “What?”

 _Oh._ Oh man.

In place of proper pyjamas, Edge has latched onto one of his hoodies. A clean one, oversized even by Rus’ standards and made of the softest orange fleece. On Edge — despite his wider frame — it still hangs down past his pelvis. He has it paired with one of the few pairs of booty shorts Rus has in his closet, although Rus is fairly confident that Edge didn’t look to see the design which covers the black cotton. Oh well. He doesn’t need to know about the illustrated skeleton hands now grabbing his ass; hopefully, Rus will get to cover those hands with his own anyway.

What really completes the picture is the near defiant glare Edge sends his way, as though daring him to object to his fashion decisions. As if that would ever happen. As it currently stands, Rus is pretty sure his soul is aching too hard to speak. How does his boyfriend manage to look so cute and snuggly and tempting and sexy all at the same time?!

While Rus gets changed, Edge settles into bed, casting aside the topmost blanket. He curls up in the bed in a way that brings back memories of Rus’ childhood; it was easier to stay warm when he made himself as small as possible, even if that could be tricky with limbs as gangly as his. And Edge’s too, apparently.

These days, Rus tends to go in the exact opposite direction, sprawling out in his best impersonation of a starfish. If he were to overanalyse it, he could probably come up with some kind of deeper reasoning behind it, like not wanting to feel trapped and helpless or something along those lines… and this is precisely why he prefers his brain to shut up at night, thank you very much.

Does it make Edge feel safer, curling himself up to be less of a target? Rus doesn’t know, and now is definitely not a time to ask. Instead, he climbs in beside him, relishing in the fact that this gives him the chance to be the big spoon. Resting his chin above Edge’s head, he breathes in the way how the natural spice of his magic mingles with the green apple of their body wash.

“g’night, precious,” he mumbles around a yawn.

Sleepily, Edge wiggles closer to him. “Goodnight, Rus.”

For once, Rus isn’t the first one to pass out. Although, it is a close call; he can feel his sockets falling shut without his say, even as Edge begins to whistle in his silent near-snore. Still, Rus manages, mostly out of pure stubbornness. 

He wants to hang on to this moment for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://constantly-tired-reader.tumblr.com/) and [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/ConstantlyTiredReader)! Feel free to visit at any time.


End file.
